


|| Juxtapose ||

by anticanonhearts



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arya Stark - Freeform, Comic book nerds, F/M, Gendry Waters - Freeform, Gendry x Arya - Freeform, Gendrya - Freeform, High School AU, I dont, JROTC, Jon Snow - Freeform, Modern AU, Multi, Optimistic angst, Slice of Life, adding tags as I go, bran and rickon go to boarding school, explicit language but like duh, gendry is also a rotc boy, gendry loves marvel, gendrya fic, jon and arya have an important bond, jon dropped out of college, robb is a college graduate, sansa and arya are in high school, who knows how fluffy or angsty itll be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-05-12 01:26:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19218802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticanonhearts/pseuds/anticanonhearts
Summary: Mainly Gendrya (possible jonrya later) / family drama from Arya's POV, modern auAll the Starks are alive and well, although corrupted by household tensions that have been built up for ages. Robb works abroad in Denmark and refuses to visit, Jon dropped out of college and lives unemployed back at home, Bran and Rickon have been sent off to boarding school, and Arya and Sansa are left to deal with Ned and Catlyn- who are more overwhelmed than anyone.To each his own, Arya learns to find refuge in writing comics, and in a weird boy she met at Walgreens, who shares more than her interests.A story of distress, distraction, and unconditional love in unexpected places.





	1. The Life I Knew, and the Life I Know

**Author's Note:**

> first of all thank you thank you thank you for taking the time to read this fic. I consider this the first real thing I've written.  
> My closest friend came to town for a few days after I began this first chapter.  
> These days have been filled with too much pain, seeing the world unrelentingly tearing her family's life apart. It sickens me to the core.  
> The story on it's own wasn't inspired by her's, but she's inspired me in other ways that I'm sure will reflect somewhere in here. I'm sensing that this will mean much more to me than I intended, and I hope it can mean something to you.
> 
> There will be many mentions of uh comic-making & references to Marvel because I think it makes sense with these characters here, but my irl knowledge is very poor, so if I ever fuck anything up with that or there's something interesting I should know, please please do say so! I appreciate any and all feedback

 

Dark little curls wrapped around my fingers, slipping through and getting caught in my nails. Jon’s hair was soft. Even though people say black hair should be wiry and coarse, his was far from it. I tugged a few silky strands, combing them in different directions, feeling the ringlets weave about his head. His eyes were closed, relaxed, so it seemed I had more time to play with his hair. I muttered how he had the maine of a prince, as I often did, it was something to be jealous of. Jon rarely thought so. He brought his arms up to pat his head, feeling for my hands, grabbing them.

“Arya, what are ya’ doin’? To my head?”

“I’m braiding your hair.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he shook his head avidly, releasing the little mess I was making.

“Let me play with it first.” I meant it as a complaint, but it came out a tad demanding. No bother, he laughed. I separated a few locks, twisting them about each other, pulling them firmly. His hair was still moist, he showered this morning. It smelt really nice, but only because I made him use almond oil this time. Dove just never was his type, meant for fragile little hairs, I thought. His hair was too thick and too untamed, so of course I offered my expertise! I didn’t get the curly gene, but our hair types were pretty similar, dark and full.

I was working through the third braid when rapid footsteps made their way downstairs. Sansa, with both hands, clutched her phone tightly to her heart.

“Arya, oh baby sis! Arya look- wait no. Okay, you remember Theon, right?” Her smile was menacingly giddish, wrinkling at the corners. 

“Like, Racket-Boy? From forever ago?” It was a funny thought, we had this neighbor, ages ago, who loved tennis, _ mad _ loved tennis. If you would ever beat him in a game, he’d beat  _ you _ with his racket! Or, he would try to, at least. Either way, someone would end up with a bloody nose. I came up with the name, which was genius of me, I know. I knew he had issues, and I knew it was totally because he was adopted, but I was always grounded if I brought it up. 

“Okay, but, no. Get this, he’s _ hot _ .” Jon snickered, turning his attention to Sansa and ruining the pretty braid I had just finished.

“Yeah? I’ll be the judge of that. Show me.” She turned on her phone, tapping in her passcode and pulling up her recents on insta. She scrolled through a profile for a second before deciding on a post to showcase. She was right, he wasn’t too bad looking. His hair was wild, like Jon’s, though not nearly as long, and not nearly as pretty. It was sandy, looked a bit sturdy, a little greasy, too. Not bad eyes, though. They were pale, but I couldn’t tell if they were blue or green. His smile was freakishly wide, just like Sansa’s, exactly how I remembered. 

“Nice hair” Jon remarked, making his approval known to Sansa, who was way too eager for our reactions.

I scoffed, jokingly, mostly. “Why the fuss? What’s up with ol’ Racket-Boy, Sans?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, glaring slyly to us. 

“They’re moving back. He and his sister. Things didn’t work out with the fiance in France, I guess. He started texting me this morning.”

“I’ll be damned, finally a guy in town who you haven’t hit on!” Jon shaded and Sansa gasped oh-so-audibly. Jon knew what was coming- a light punch to the shoulder, followed by an eruption of their laughter. The skinny fire princess crossed her arms and turned to me, ready to declare her command upon my lowly being. 

“Yes, finally. It’s true. So Arya, that means that I need you to run to the store for me, I haven’t been keeping up, if you know what I mean.” I knew, seeing as she’s been that bit more dishevelled since her last boy months ago. Sandy, I think his name was, or something like that. Weird guy, too. I could never decide if she had the worst taste or no taste at all. I shrugged.

“Kay, fine, I’ve been meaning to grab a few things anyways. Know what you need?” She nodded, pulling up the notes in her phone. 

“I’ll text you a list. It’s short, don’t worry.” I nodded back, glancing to the side at Jon, who still wasn’t over his own joke. He grinned playfully.

“Be back soon. I think the braids already fell out.” They did. That was his fault though, obviously, for not giving them the tender care they deserved (or anything to make them stick). I grunted back at him, already making my way to the front door, grabbing my bookbag from the dining room table. I always kept my wallet in there, my sketchbook, maybe a comic, and whatnot. 

Out the door, my bike was waiting for me, propped against the side of the garage. I got this one about a year ago, she was a red bike, with a basket and horn fixed at the front. I gripped the handlebars and began peddling onward, like a brave ranger ready to face a hoard of bandits. Gaining speed like the birds once they gain flight. The flight was quick, but it was steady, although the wind hit a bit harsher today. We were deep in August, making it harder each day to ignore the fact that school would be starting up again soon. The sun no longer set at that consistent 9:30 mark, darkening more and more each day, sooner and sooner. The season itself was wonderful and crisp. I never minded the scent of molding leaves and smoke, shifting gently with each neighborhood, leaves, then smoke, then both, then only leaves again. I liked the musky green that soaked into the city late summer, but the arriving colors weren’t so terrible either. It’s like a quick death, autumn, seems to always leave faster than it arrives. The Earth retreats so swiftly at the first notion of Winter, nature has forever been smarter than us when it came to the doom of Winter. But whatever, make the kids go to school, even if they have four feet of snow blocking the doorway. Humans should hibernate just the same, stocking and locking up in their homes December through February. It’s the only viable solution. 

I rounded a corner, passing Sertoma Park, a childhood favorite. They have a real cool bike trail there, although I never found the fun in following the trail. It’s a big place, easy to get lost in. That’s what I loved about it. A bit of sun peeked through the clouds, I saw the Walgreens not too far ahead. I sped up a tad, avoiding a few pedestrians, ringing if they didn’t notice me coming up behind.

Rollin’ up to tha club, I parked my bike at the rail, not really caring to secure it there with a lock. I marched on inside, peeking at the list Sansa sent me. Nothing crazy, just exfoliators and acrylics and whatnot, some melatonin too. They weren’t hard to find, all around the same area. I migrated towards the craft isle, peering amongst the little arrays of highlighters and pens, but specifically the pens. I needed to bulk up on pilot g-7 0.5mm ballpoints, those were my absolute favorite pens. Writing pens, at least. Nothing beats faber castell pens, but those were hella spendy, so writing pens would have to work for now.

There was a new kid at the register, one I didn’t recognize. He smiled and nodded to me as I placed my handful of items in front of him. 

“Find everything you were looking for?” 

“Suppose so.” He picked up the first item to scan. “Haven’t seen you around before. You new in town?” I half-joked, to myself, thinking of Sansa and her new interest in our old neighbor. 

“No, not really,”he furrowed a brow. I couldn’t tell if he was more hurt than annoyed, but probably just annoyed, “I’ve seen you around a bit, actually.” 

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“Hallways, mostly. We go to Lakeridge together.”

“Guess we do. You aren’t a junior, though?”

“Senior.”

“Right. Okay. Didn’t recognize you.”

“That’s okay, ah- 16.48 is your total.” I reached into my bag, taking out my wallet and pulling out a twenty. When he took the bill, I couldn’t help but notice, his hands were absurdly calloused. I took a good look at his face. He wasn’t too bad a looker, really. Odd that I hadn’t seen him around before, seeing as how he recognized myself. He handed me 3.52 in return, which I tucked right back in my backpack. “Would you like a bag for these?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

Before handing me the bag, he made a notion to point out my t-shirt. It was fairly basic, the bat signal in its glory, nothing more.

“Are you a Marvel fan?”

I shrugged, “‘More of a DC girl, if I had to choose.” That seemed to excite him, to say the least. His eyes lifted and he spoke eagerly.

“I’m a real fan of Black Widow. I mean, she’s so cool, you know what I mean? Marvel’s kind of my life, or half of it, DC too. Or I like most comics, really. They’re all good.” I narrowed my eyes.

“For sure. So... I’ll get going.”

“Yeah of course! See ya!” 

He almost had the nerve to wave, though he didn’t remember to catch a name. No matter, I wouldn’t be making any trips to Walgreens any time soon. I hopped onto my bike, peddling the way back.  
He was a senior, like my sister. I wonder if he knew her, if that’s how he knew me.  I began to wonder if she’d laid her hands on him, yet, too, if that would bother me, and why that would ever bother me. Sansa was the chick-fil-a, fooling around with the bimonthly boy was her thing. I’ve mocked her for her dude-clinging, but I wasn’t completely appalled by the idea of calloused hands…shit no, not hands, just, a guy. That kid was weird, seemed a bit geeky even for me, but maybe he was my chance. If not for filling some insatiable void that may or may not exist within me, then at least for seeing what the fuss is about. There, that’s not such a bad idea. Then again, it’s not like I would ever see him, especially since we wouldn’t have any classes together. On the other hand, he’s the right age, and definitely the right height. No good. I decided I’d ask Jon about it once we got home, since he’s a dude and I trust him. It’s doubtful that I’ll even remember grocery boy once I got home. It’s not even that big of a deal… just a few intrusive thoughts coming to steer the wheel. 

I pulled up home, parking my bike at the side of the garage. There was a jeep parked up front, so mom and dad were home. It wasn’t always an assuring image, things have been rather tense lately between mom and Jon, since he dropped out of college last year. I was more than happy to have him home, same as Bran and Rickon, but our parents are worried for his future and all that jazz. For the record, Jon has tried getting an apprenticeship at the dealership with dad, but that idea has been far more conspired than it has been discussed. 

Inside the house, I knew it had been quiet before I entered. I set the Walgreens bag on the dining table, leaving it for Sansa, taking my pens out and into my bookbag. 

“Arya? That you?” There was a sternness to her voice, but warm.

“Welcome Home,” Dad peeked around the corner to me, gesturing I come over to the living room. By the look on his face, I haven’t been missing out. I made my way over, seeing mom and Jon in a deadlock stare. He was distressed, it was distressing to see. Kind eyes should never hide under furrowed brows. I tried to give the gloomy guy a look of sympathy, but he was painfully occupied. 

“Where’s Sansa?” I kept my voice down, trying not to be obnoxious in interrupting the silence. I wouldn’t be surprised if she went up to her room just to avoid whatever showdown went on in here. Mom broke her glare and shifted her gaze to me, immediately switching her expression from scorn to a polite indifference. 

“She’s upstairs, in her room.” I nodded, returning my stare to Jon, trying to get him to look to me. He was fixated on the floor, running a hand through his coiled hair. 

“I’ll be upstairs then.” Dad squeezed my shoulder when I walked passed him, an affectionate gesture, but I paid no mind. I grabbed the grocery bag from the dining room table before heading upstairs. I opened the door to Sansa’s room, she was reading on her bed with her headphones in. She took them out once she saw me. “I have your things,” I gave her the bag.

“Cool, cool,” She put her book down, _ The Pisces _ by Melissa Broder, and began to position the contents onto her nightstand. They were temporary positions, since Sansa was all about that “minimalistic” lifestyle. It’s not something I totally got, I felt empty when I wasn’t surrounded by every material artifact that ever came upon my possession. She calls me a hoarder, but fuck it, it does wonders in the dark winter months when vacancy completely consumes me. It’s all I can do sometimes.  

“What happened with mom and Jon downstairs?”

“He brought up Bran and Rickon. Said it was fucked up to send them away to boarding school. She said it could only do them good, teach them work ethic, grow up to be like Robb, y’know, shit like that.”

“And what do you think?”

She stared at the wall, picking at her nails, compulsively. They were painted green, I didn’t notice earlier. “I don’t know what to think. They haven’t been gone very long... but I miss them.”

“I’ll tell you what I think. I’m skeptical. That place doesn’t care about ‘em. They should be home.”

“Yeah,” She sighed blankly, “I’m skeptical too.” 

We sat there for awhile, in silence. I focused on the sound of her breathing, so steadily, calculated. Sometimes I really wonder how she gets through it all, like it’s nothing. So ready to move along and get wherever she needs to be. I often hated how nonchalant she acted about everything these days, or how she never backed me up anymore, especially when confronting our parents. Lately, I almost find it admirable. I wish I could be so calm, let the internal raging stay inside. 

I tried to listen to the conversations happening below us, what Jon was saying, what was being said to him, but it was silent down there, too. 

Until a door opened, and then slammed. I knew it was dad. It’s happened before, sometimes it’s all too much for him. Well, it’s too much for us, too. Even for mom, I feel bad for her too, she does all that she can. Sansa and I had been spacing out in this room for so long, I hadn’t realized it was already dark outside. 

Another door slam, this time in a different area. It was mom, to her bedroom. I wondered if Jon was still sulking down there, and decided he shouldn’t be alone. 

“I’m goin’ down.”

“Kay.”

And so, out of her bedroom I went, around the railing and down the steps. I walked into the living room, only to see Jon in the same place I saw him earlier, doubtful he had moved at all. He looked bad. I just stood there for a bit, until he finally looked up at me. Oh, it wasn’t good. He looked on the verge, I don’t know of what, but of something. 

I went up to him and I hugged him. It might’ve been more for me than for him, but he brought an arm around my back in return. My face buried into his shoulder. It was still, and it was quiet. The kitchen light was on. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what he should do. 

He and I knew that mom wanted him to leave, at least to get a job, but I was scared. Robb was doing well, working abroad in Denmark, far away. I love him, but he never visits. I can’t blame him. And then, our little brothers, they’re gone, too. I was never close with them, but now I worry I’ll never be. It’s been noticeably quieter since they left, way quieter. Sansa will be leaving for college after this year, and from what I gather, she’s not exactly looking at in-state tuition. She’s going to work hard and make it out, no baggage and no remorse, just like Robb. I know I’ll see her often, but the times when I don’t, will I be alone? 

Then there’s Jon. I was ecstatic when I first heard he was coming back home to stay.I remember the day he came back perfectly; his laugh when calling me “little sister”, ruffling my hair, how freakishly hot it was outside.  He’s always been on my side, I’ve always been on his, no matter what. Jon is my  _ best friend _ . The thought of him leaving again terrified me. Being alone terrified me, more than anything. It’s selfish, I know that, expecting him to stay just for me, when this roof seems to be tearing at him. I know he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be here, that he’d be better off someplace else, where no one knew him, or wanted to know him. I disagreed. 

It was foolish. We’re both foolish. This whole damn family. 

 

I muttered, “Don’t leave.” 

 

“I won’t.” 

 

I was tired, and closed my eyes, feeling nothing else but being there with him. 


	2. Mephisto in the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya makes a friend, more or less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late Father's day, my dad kicked me out of the house. Good times.  
> This chapter is a tad shorter, to my dismay, but I was too stressed to stretch it out as planned.

I was feeling inspired today.

I trotted to McKennan park early in the afternoon. The sky was clear and the wind was pure, carrying the scent of cinnamon and mold. Headphones in, I walked through the trail, far enough. I found my favorite hill, crested and overlooking a newly forming creek. I sat on that hill and dug through my bag, taking out my sketchbook and pens. I flipped through all the pages, slowly, examining all the things I’ve put in that sketchbook before today. It’s a ritual of mine, obsessing over what I did yesterday, to what extent I’ve come, what it makes sense to do today. 

I’ll draw strips of a character, one I’ve designed but given no name. I rarely give them names, I never knew exactly why. I don’t think I’d stick to it, or stay consistent with it. Consistency was left to the grass that stained my legs every day I came out here. The pen became a sixth finger, a point became a curve, a curve into a chin, and a chin into a face. There was nothing more beautiful than the bleeding of ink, when the page is as clear as the sky casting the light upon it. The succubus black in contrast to the fair white. It was corrupting, almost. It’s all about that contrast, and the balance, the exposure, the clarity. 

It was quiet here, but the noise was moving. Water trickled barely before and below me, the repeating skids of the pen vibrated through my wrist. Musky branches above me, and footsteps behind me. 

Oh. Footsteps behind me. 

I didn’t turn, kept my head down in my drawings, posing nonchalantly, like Sansa might, hoping they’d pass quicker so I could keep my peace. I flinched the tiniest bit when he sat himself next to me, as if I were his business. There was clearly no ignoring him, so I took out my earbuds, looked to him, and there next to me was the boy from Walgreens. 

“You remember me from yesterday?” Oh yeah, this guy was great at greetings.

“I do. Hello.” Meek, that’s what I was. 

“Cool seeing you here, huh?” The way he spoke was nervous, but the smile he flashed me said otherwise. It was a little charming, his composure. 

“Yeah… so, how’d you find me? Were you looking?” The park was public, sure, but this neck of the woods tended to remain unbothered. 

“Nah, jogging, making my rounds.”

“Right.” 

Being close up wasn’t so bad. He was toned,  _ really _ not that bad of a looker, and next to me, he was big, not too bad in size at all. Man, I’m the worst when I’m like this. I don’t know this guy, I don’t know what he wants from me. He stared into my lap over my shoulder and it burned me. This proximity, with a stranger, is that nasty or what? No, maybe I could definitely work with this. I never saw myself as being such a late bloomer, like I was one of those people who were “waiting”, anticipating something more special to come. There’s nothing special ahead for me, in that way, I wouldn’t let myself fall for it. 

Okay, ease. Yeah, he’s fuckin’ attractive, but I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me, and hasn’t shown legitimate interest like that. He’s in my sister’s grade, anyways. This wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to hit it off with me just to get into my sister’s pants, or the second. They weren’t at all like this chap, but again, I don’t know him.

I was too busy staring at his calves that it took me forever to notice what exactly he was peering at in my lap. I immediately slapped my sketchbook shut.

“Don’t look at those.” I wasn’t emotionally ready to expose myself like that today, surely not to this guy, who I had no reason to trust even if my womb is instinctively begging to straddle his waist like a pony.

“Dude, those were cool as shit.”

“Yeah, they’re shit alright.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! I mean, you’re good!” Any person should have been real weirded out by his enthusiasm, which erupted out of absolutely nowhere. I remembered yesterday, he’s a huge Marvel guy, apparently. That could be a good thing, I think. He might get the whole ‘I make up characters to cope with my deteriorating family’ thing. Fat chance, but a chance nonetheless. I didn’t like the abruptness of it, but it didn’t seem like I had anything to lose with this guy. I suppose… he seems friendly enough? Fuck it?

He moved closer to me. He smelt like Jon, in a way that was clean but poignant. It was smoked and umber-y and nice. I noticed now, too, what a pretty blue his eyes were. They were an early-winter kind of blue. 

“Who was that?” He referred to the sketch he peeped on. 

“Just a character. I haven’t named her, but she’s a shapeshifter.”

“That’s cool,” he nodded to the ground for a moment, before flashing me a cheery smile again, sending a small wave of vim through my body, “Just like, into other people? Or other things?”

“Yeah, people, animals, whatever.”

“Why’s she that way?”

“I’m thinking, it’s kindof a post-apocalyptic world thing, and she’s a military pet, like human experiments and shit, y’know?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. So, you do this kind of thing often?”

“Mhm, it’s a hobby, at least.”

“I’m Gendry.”

“Arya.”

Sweet. He perked, crossing his legs. I never thought cargo shorts could do anyone justice, but they did him justice. He was certainly more bare today, flaunting a sweaty wife beater like it was made for him. Why does this nerd have such a brawny form? He had broad shoulders that the light through the trees hit so perfectly. If he knew the thoughts I was having now, and didn’t think I was weird already, it’d be his cue to freak, I’d think. It wasn’t my fault, surely he was well aware of his stature, not bothering to hide it from the world. Yeah, he knew, for sure. 

“So, what is it that you do? Aside from cashiering.” I wanted to know about him. Crack the code of ‘marvel-is-kind-of-my-life-but-I’m-also-freaking-ripped-Gendry’.   

“I’m in the ROTC program. I want to join the U.S. Air Force.” Well, if that doesn’t explain it. 

“Why the air force?”

“There’s many reasons, but I’ll tell you, part of me is hoping it’s the first step to becoming Captain America.” I let a laugh slip, which amused him. 

“Is he something like your idol, then?”

“Sorta. I don’t care for him nearly as much as Black Widow, but I’m not completely up for the whole Soviet Union thing.”

“Oh? Why not?” He squinted upwards and parted his mouth, as if deeply considering why the Soviet Union may be unappetizing. He hummed before facing me, serious, with a lowered voice.

“Did you know… how pretty your freckles are?” He grinned, forcing my face to flush with heat. 

“I don’t have freckles!” 

“It’s true! They’re barely there, but they’re there.”

“Oh  _ stop _ , jeez!”

He was giddy and beaming, clearly proud of himself, as if something had been accomplished. It was a strange thing to point out in the first place, I couldn’t tell if I was flattered or not. I shouldn’t be. But he was so focused on my face, it was almost embarrassing. His attitude was lighthearted, though, more playful than anything. Part of me hoped he wasn’t only messing around.

“Would it be weird if said you remind me a bit of my brother?” On his better days, Jon was this playful. It’s been a while, I missed it.

“You have a brother too, then? Not just Sansa?” I nearly forgot he knew my sister. 

“It’s funny, actually, I’m the middle of five.”

“Five. Wow.” 

“What about you?”

“Always wished I had siblings, to be true, but it’s just me and my mom. Always has been.” For a moment, I didn’t know what to say, so I only nodded. I could tell there was a sadness to it, but he seemed content, in one way or another. I wanted to ask about his dad, but couldn’t formulate a question that wasn’t rude, safely. He was still looking at me, smiling, unbothered. Change of subject, maybe?

“So, you said you were in ROTC? Lakeridge doesn’t have that program, I thought.”

“No, it doesn’t. I’m transferring to Lincoln this year.”

“Transferring for your senior year is strange.”

“Yeah, but, sometimes, you do what you gotta do.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He wasn’t wrong, although still I wondered why there was an underlying obligation, for him. He could’ve been a total loner at Lakeridge, that would make sense. I wondered what his other reasons were, for being set on enrolling into the Air Force. It might’ve had something to do with his father. Or maybe completely not, I had no idea, really.

“So, Gendry…” My voice trailed, but I had his attention, full attention. “Do you want to… walk me home?” 

He practically jumped in his sitting.

“Yes ma’am!”

“Ew, don’t call me ma’am.”

“Oh, yes ma’am.”

“That’s weird, stop it.” I packed my sketchbook and whatever else, he lent me a hand getting up. 

There was no rush to it. We strolled at ease, unwinding the trail, exiting the park. It was colder already, but Gendry didn’t pay any mind. A part of me felt like I was showcasing him to the passersby, a statement of ‘ _ yeah, I’m Arya Stark, this is my catch’ _ . It was a good feeling, I have to admit. It’s due time for me, I’ll be seventeen soon, and I know I could definitely get used to showing him off. 

Fuck it, I want it. I’ll shoot my shots with this guy and see how it goes. If it goes wrong, no feelings, things will return to how they were, and that will be fine. We won’t be going to the same school anyways, so I don’t have to worry about that. I’ll work on playing it cool for now, but, fuck it, I’m going for it. 

Our small talk was minimal, I stopped him as we got to my house. 

“This is my stop.”

“Okay. Can I have your number?” 

“Yeah, give me your phone.” I opened his contacts and made one for myself, putting in my name and number before handing it back to him. He immediately gawked.

“Stark? Like-”

“Tony Stark, yeah, I’ve heard it.” He gave me a smile; it was simple and warm.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, or whenever, then.”

“Text me, kay?” His pretty blue eyes were accusingly puckish, “So I know who you are.” It was a good enough justification.

“Will do.” He nodded, and with that, I turned to the door. I didn’t look behind me before heading inside. This day was a win.

 

Inside was another story. I didn’t need to stress much to figure out mom and Jon were at it again, you could cut the tension with a knife and still it might be too thorough. They didn’t stop to acknowledge me, not even dad, who buried his face in his hands. There wasn’t anything I could do, so I went upstairs, to Sansa’s room. There was a guilt to feeling so lighthearted on days like these, when my family really fought, which seemed to be everyday. I could be downstairs, defending Jon, urging mom and dad to quit bugging him, whatever, but instead I’m upstairs and giddy over a boy I barely know. It was easier to think about, and right now I needed something easy to think about. 

“How long have they been at it?”

“Not long. Maybe an hour, or less.” Sansa didn’t look up from her book this time, although she let me sit beside her. So unbothered, she was, more every day. I wondered if it was an awful thing to be so dismissive of the fathoms below, if I was just as awful for never acting on it. Jon was downstairs facing ridicule; he didn’t deserve it. He was alone, too. I did nothing to help him, but what could I think to do?

When we were way younger, we used to have this little daydream that we’d someday run away together, Jon and I. It was over nothing, really. I was upset that I was signed up for softball instead of baseball, and Jon wanted to sing instead of any of it. For some reason, we deemed ourselves prejudiced, belittled. Even though our problems were so miniscule, really incomparable to any amount of suffering, we understood each other. He was sensitive in one way and I was sensitive in another. Regardless, he’s always been here for me, whenever I needed him, he’d be here. And I’m not there with him now, downstairs. He probably wouldn’t be happy if I tried to insert myself into it, anyways.  _ Let’s run away together _ , we would think. It was our perfect idea. We’d go someplace far away, where no one knew our faces, where he could sing and play music and I’d listen. I loved listening to him sing when we were younger, though he doesn’t anymore. 

I could hear yelling, it was dad, this time. I pressed my ear to the wall, drowning out other noise, trying to focus in on what was being said downstairs. Sansa didn’t react to the shift in sound. It was hard to make it out, but I knew he was defending Jon. 

_ He’s a boy. Only a boy. _

_ Robb is only a boy, and look at him. _

_ Oh, yeah? And what’s he doin’? _

_ Robb is working his ass off in Denmark. _

_ You don’t know what Robb’s doing in Denmark. _

It was true, he hasn’t called in ages. No one could be sure what he was up to, half the world away. Mom and dad weren’t getting anywhere, Jon couldn’t do anything, I didn’t think  _ I  _ could do anything. It was getting old, these days. I turned my head to Sansa, wondering to what extent she denied all that was going on. How much of it was denial, anyways? She was always a daydreamer, that’s for sure. This probably wasn’t how she imagined life to be at this age. In a way, I couldn’t blame her. In a way, that’s all I could do, blame Sansa. Blame her for ignoring Jon, for ignoring me, for ignoring her own life. But there wasn’t much she could do, either. 

“I’m going to my room.” I got up to leave. She nodded, wordless. The journey was short, my room was only across the hall. I cringed at the creak of the door, but warmed by my walls, plastered with posters and sketches. I turned the desk lamp on, opening my sketchbook to a new page. 

My phone buzzed. I felt myself buzz all the same. 

Unknown: hey, big guy. sun’s getting real low

Me: who this?

Unknown: guess!

Unknown: !!

Me: gendry?

Unknown: u kno it;)

The noise below me prevented my heart from fluttering. I put in my headphones. I was allowed to distract myself tonight. 

I picked up my pen, tracing it into a curve, into a chin, working my way up to a face. Gendry was lucky, he’d already reserved himself a page. 

I turned the volume up.


	3. Indulge Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repetition is a spell meant to be broken, one way or another.

I woke to the sound of footsteps, carefully stopping outside my door. The morning light was white and calm, spilling through the window in squares. The door opened slowly.

“Jon.”

He flinched, assuming I was asleep, before his eyes shadowed themselves in shame.

“I’m sorry, didn’t know you were awake.”

“Come in,” I shuffled my way through the bedding, sitting up near the wall, and patting the bedside, “Here.”

He closed the door behind him as carefully as he had opened it. The door had a mad and inevitable squeak, but he did his best to maintain the quietness. He came over, obeying my patter, and sat beside me.

“What’s up?” I spoke softly, trying to match his caution with my voice.

“Just wanted to see you.” He spoke low, the words laced with grief as they left his lips. He was a bit unkempt, oily skin and greasy hair. I thought of smoothing his hair out of his face, but he had the same thought for me, and did so before I could. 

“You look tired.”

“Haven’t slept.”

“In how long?”

“Only a day.” I wasn’t sure if that was true, he didn’t usually look so upset. He needed to rest, at the very least. 

“Well, I’m not about to keep you up.” He laughed as if I were joking, but I laid down, tugging him with me. 

“It’s alright, I’m not that tired.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open.” He gave a slight smile, and an equally slight grunt, before deliberately closing his eyes. I shifted closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around me. His breathing was even, nearly still. It wasn’t the most pleasant smell, this proximity with a scruffy unbathed man. Although… you could still make out faint traces of almond oil, from the shampoo we bought for him, however many days ago. I wanted to bring my hand around the back of his head, to play with his hair, run my fingers through it, but I suppose I was content with my head tucked under his chin. It was nice, being there with him, wanting to be there all day. However, as nice as it was, I had an agenda. 

He was already asleep, out like a switch. His arm was heavy as I lifted it over my head, gently, freeing myself to ready for the day. I pulled the comforters over his shoulders, placing a kiss to his forehead, adoring the crease above his brow. 

I didn’t have a problem changing in the same room, since he was my brother, and asleep anyways. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know what was there, not with his previous girlfriend, that’s for sure. She was a pretty one, we got along well. I never knew why it ended between them... maybe I’ll bring it up later, maybe not. I thought a bit of how I could impress my new little friend, but there weren’t many impressive things to choose from. A grey pullover and jeans would suffice. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, catching myself in a vacant and prolonged blinking contest with my reflection, before finally pulling my hair half up and leaving to find my bookbag. My sketchbook was still laying open on my desk, a somewhat fictionalized Gendry, haphazardly shaded with various highlighters. I ripped the page out, slipping it into a drawer. It’d be embarrassing if Gendry saw it, knowing that if I ever flipped through it he’d no-doubt catch a glimpse. Not today. 

Jon was there in my bed still, deeply asleep and having subconsciously replaced me with a pillow, clutching it firmly. He wasn’t handling any of it well. Dad’s doing what he can to be there for him, but it isn’t enough, with how things are. I wondered how things were for him at state college, before he dropped. He refused to tell us why he was coming back, when he did. There were many things I was meaning to ask him, but never find the right time to. All I could do was let him sleep, for now. I was out of the house in no time.

I was looking forward to going back to the park today, more so than usual. I was certain that Gendry would be there; he’d be there because he’d think I’d there. Like yesterday, I didn’t bike today, either, remembering his eagerness to walk me home. It was sweet, really. I liked that I could be distracted by him, thinking for once of something besides Jon and the terrors he awaited every evening in the living room. I didn’t know what to do about it, everything going on with Jon, but it hurt to think about. It didn’t hurt to think about Gendry, not one bit.

He was where I thought he’d be, exactly where I was, the day before. Well, I considered it to be my special little area, but it seemed this is where’d we’d expect each other from now on. He was lounging, lying with his headphones in, arms crossed under his head. He must have taken note of the changing weather, seeing as he didn’t show up in a mere wife beater today, and rather a sweatshirt. I walked over to him, leaning over, far enough to cast a shadow over his defined face.

“You’re in my territory.” He looked up to me slyly, his blue eyes still pale under my shade. Not the change in expression I was hoping for. He pulled out his earbuds.

“I got here first.” It was playful, I couldn’t help a little grin. I sat in the grass next to him, which was mostly dirt, and waited for him to sit up with me. I secretly peered at his abdomen, trying to make out if he had a six-pack or not. No clear deductions could be made, I’d have to investigate further some other time. 

“So, what were you listenin’ to?” I didn’t really care, he knew I didn’t really care. Irregardless, he moved closer, handing one earbud to me. 

We knew what we were doing. 

 

\---------------------------

 

He walked me home just the same as yesterday, though there seemed to be a lot less space between our steps. It took us longer to depart, even though I waved him off early at the end of the block, too giddy to keep up another second of my stubbornness act. He didn’t press on it, instead only waving me goodbye and heading the other way, which I was thankful for. 

I was walking up to my doorway, when, in two shakes, my father stormed out. He looked more shocked to see me than I him. This wasn’t his usual distress, he was too caught off guard. It didn’t seem good, making me wonder what line was crossed tonight, as opposed to every before.

“Arya.” It was bewildering, the most familiar man to me, had the eyes of a stranger. It was uncomfortable, like a separate conscious had slipped into the same man. I tried to understand his expression, solemn and avid. He continued at my silence, putting a hand on my shoulder, “You take care of Jon.”

I nodded, uncertain at the implication. He turned and made quick to the car, walking around to the driver’s seat.

“Dad?” It came out panicked, stranded. There was a sadness in his face, now, looking transparently to me. 

“Don’t worry too much, babygirl.” He forced a warmth into his voice, rigid, though not unnatural. We only stared for a moment, I pleaded for him to say something more. He remained unspoken. In an instant, nearly, he was gone. In his car, backing up, and down the road, opposite from where Gendry and I came from. It was almost surreal, watching the back of the car, focusing on the license plate, focusing on the dark green color of the paint, before it rolled completely out of sight.  _ Take care of Jon? Isn’t that what you should be doing?  _

Back to the front door, red, uninviting. I would be inside, eventually. My door was on the handle. Open, and now, inside. The first thing I noticed was the darkness of the stairwell. The second thing I noticed was the sound of choking, from the living room, Jon. I felt petrified in my stance, wondering if they heard me come in through the door, of course they had. Do I walk upstairs, pretend not to hear a thing? I could hear it better now, Jon was crying. It was stifled, repressed to the bottom of his throat, but he was crying. I was in the living room, before I knew it, fretful and tense. I had never seen my mother’s eyes so wide, stretching to either end of her skull. Her face was awfully strained, wrinkling at every corner. Her glare laid restlessly on Jon, whose eyes were equally as wide, although aimed to the floor. He must’ve known that I was there, but his mind was caught, unregistered, fixated on something that I knew was beyond the carpet floor. 

“What have you done?” I spoke with anger, nearly coarse. I knew, I knew, she had hurt Jon. But how? Her expression didn’t soften at my presence, she remained stern, untouched. “What have you done this time?”

“Get upstairs, Arya.” It was all far too quick, I found myself already boiling. I held my stance, refusing to let her get away with whatever she intended tonight. Dad stormed out every night, this surely wasn’t new, but this wasn’t nearly casual. _ Take care of Jon _ . There he was, Jon, in  _ shock _ . What the hell could I do?

“Why did dad leave?” I disguised my fear for my brother as concern for my father. I tried to think of whatever nerve I could strike, but could make her speak.  “Where does he go when he leaves every night? Why did you make him leave?”

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“My father concerns me.” I couldn’t tell what she was working in her mind, though I could tell she was uncertain whether to continue the deadlock with me or return her gaze to Jon, who refused to be seen by me still. “My brother concerns me, too.”

That wasn’t the right thing to say, somehow. A shudder silently flickered over Jon’s shoulder; my mother’s expression came to that of triumph and disgust. Sitting there, crouched, enveloped within himself, he looked like a child, hurt, vulnerable. What had she done?

“Since you’re so concerned, it was your brother who sent your father away.” It was bullshit, I knew. Still, the look she casted to Jon spoke otherwise. It was a look that said, _ it was always you _ , retrospective and accusational. It allowed a moment for me to stare to Jon, begging him, trying to drill a hole into him with my eyes, for him to look at me as well. Wasn’t it really only this morning, that he held me so tightly? The sight seemed ancient, him unconscious, unknowing, at rest. It tore my heart to look at him now. 

“Who is it that he goes to, every night, when he leaves? Who is it that he’s spending his nights with?” I said that. It rang untrue, this attribution, coming from my own voice. I was accusing my father of an affair, and what’s more, solely to piss off my mother. This wasn’t something I could back down from. I didn’t believe it, that my dad could be so unfaithful, to that extent, but she might believe it. I tried to think of what my mother would think, every night, when she lies alone, waiting for him to drive home in the morning. Part of me worried if it really was her that drove dad away, only her, and not the combined stresses we’ve recently been confronted with. I started to wish I’d listened more carefully to their argument last night. 

“He doesn’t spend his nights with anyone.”

“You know this?”

“I know this.”

“I don’t think you have a clue.” I didn’t understand how I was able to speak with such assertion, where even my hands couldn’t help but tremble. I didn’t have a right to speak to my mother this way, as if there was something I knew that she didn’t. I didn’t know anything that she didn’t. Still, it struck her, visibly. A look to me, scavenging my eyes for sincerity, which I falsely portrayed, through a gutting adrenaline that flooded me unwarranted. Then, a reflection, directed towards Jon’s form. She clenched her jaw, though delicately, nearly calculated. No, she knew something for certain. I was the only one in the room left in the dark, and yet here I was, conducting the scene. She was snapping. It wasn’t right.

There was my mother, my beautiful mother. Sansa took after her, in that regard, in many regards. My mother. I’d always go to her, as a child, whenever I was in trouble, since dad would most likely be at work. She didn’t care whether I was hurt or had hurt someone else, she always knew what to do. Her gaze had always been fixed, but it was gentle. I was sent home from school once, for stabbing a boy with a pencil. We were fighting, but it was an accident, however impossible that was to explain. She came to pick me up, to bring me home. My eyes were swollen, hair mussed, underprepared for her to scold me, not ready to be put in my place. She didn’t scold me that day, she cradled me in her lap. She had always been understanding. So then, why couldn’t she be, with Jon? There was a strange barrier between the two, seemingly out of place. It didn’t make sense for them to be so divided, I was no more special than Jon was. He deserved her affections more than I did. She didn’t look at anyone when she left the room, haphazardly, frigid. She marched with uncertainty to her room, slamming her door, twisting the lock. She would keep herself locked in there until dad came home.

There was Jon, beautiful Jon. I sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, as dad did to me earlier.  _ You take care of Jon _ . He shook me off, which stung. 

“I can’t see you.”

“That’s because you’re covering your eyes.” A joke, to which no one laughed. It was a failed attempt to lighten any mood, it wasn’t the time for it anyways, I was foolish. “Why can’t you?” I tried instead, desperate to make any moment of this easier.

“I can’t say.” No good. None of it was any good. 

“Jon,” I touched the hand covering his face, pulling it away, ever so slightly. I brought my face closer to his, trying to make out what was hiding beneath those fingers, “look at me.”

He did so, not able to upset me with such purpose. His eyes were red and broken, his frown seemingly carved into his cheeks. He looked as strained as mom, as restless, confused. 

“I can’t say.” He reiterated, making certain I knew that he would not speak of it. Tonight, at least. I figured it was worth a shot, and that if anyone could get to him, it was me.

“C’mon, I’m your sister.”

“I don’t know if I can call myself your brother.” His voice was threaded with guilt, his eyes unmoving from mine. I didn’t understand, nor was I expecting a response such as that one. He spoke as if it truly was him who threw dad over the edge and out of the house. He spoke as if he deserved to shudder solemnly and red-eyed, shredded by the scorn of his own mother. I thought of her, how she glared to him so truthfully. Maybe Jon really did say something terrible, to mom, or dad, or whoever. That was hard for me to believe, though his eyes begged for me to believe it. I decided not to press on it. No good was about to come from it. “I need to think.”

Alone, he meant. He wouldn’t let me touch him, so I only nodded. It was my cue to leave, so I did, respectfully. I couldn’t apologize to mom, nor could I comfort Jon. The consensus was to take refuge in my room. I didn’t bother to check on Sansa, knowing she mustn’t have cared for the fathoms below, instead reading her book, or texting Theon, for all I know. It must be nice to have a boy to distract yourself with. I suppose, I wasn’t much to talk. 

I landed inside the false haven of my room, wishing that I was anywhere else. Jon was hurt, and wouldn’t talk to me now, but I knew he would tomorrow. It would start off sweetly, me seeing him, followed by a tease and a laugh. He’d give me that hearty look before mussing my hair, giving me the cue to ask him what I needed to know, and he’d give me an answer. That’s how it had always been. 

Sleeping was the best idea, the most practical, it should’ve been easy. But it was impossible to sleep, feeling an underlying guilt for whatever took place earlier. I was guilty of hurting my mother, knowingly so. I was guilty of neglecting my brother, by letting him refuse me to be there for him. Jon was down there alone, certainly feeling worse than I was feeling; of all functioning, capable of only holding his tongue. I was guilty of wordlessly watching my dad as he drove further out of sight. Those were my holy trinity of guilt for the night, thinking each three over like a prayer, running a consistent play-by-play through my head as the minutes ticked by. Father, mother, Jon. It kept me restless. 

I remembered the boy who was slowly sheltering me out of it all. The boy who popped out of thin air, yet seemed to remember me all the same. The boy who doted on me, like how Jon would’ve, a year or so ago, and before then. It was nearly instinct, or survival, the way my mind jumped to him in these moments, scrapping the corners of my mind for something a bit brighter. He got me up in the morning, I knew that much. He was new, and he was exciting. That was enough.

ME: U up? :p

I regret sending the text directly afterwards, knowing it was late, knowing I had nothing to say. There was no immediate response. If he saw it in the morning, he’d think it was silly, for sure, my texting him this late at night. I wondered how badly it might impact my dignity, especially around him; this boy who was new, exciting, enough. My little worries and little hopes all came to an ease when my phone buzzed.

BULLHEAD: always up… whatsup?;

I gave the tiniest grin at the name, one I came up with earlier, thinking it was clever. He thought it was clever, too, so it definitely counts.

ME: can’t sleep… what u up to?

BULLHEAD: waiting 4 u outside ur window…

ME: -_-

BULLHEAD: srry im not actually

ME: fuckin duh

BULLHEAD: i can b tho!;)

ME: oh can u?

BULLHEAD: depends… how awake r u?

My heart had already picked up a pace, thriving from the adrenaline of the cell phone buzz, fluttering from the implications. Could he be serious? I didn’t know where he lived, but I didn’t think he lived far. Regardless, he’s been walking me home, he knows how far or close we are. I’m down, for sure, but only if he’s down. If he wasn’t actually down, that’d be embarrassing. I started thinking of ways I could cover for myself if he found out I was serious while he was in fact not nearly as serious. 

ME: wym?

I figured it was genuine, enough to get him to spill.

BULLHEAD: wanna sneak out? we can go to our place:-)

“Our place”. I shouldn’t feel as giddy as I do now. It wasn’t our place, it was my territory. Still, he thinks it’s “our” place, he said that. It sounded gamesome and ludic, like a secret little land two children would create. It was Jon, who I was thinking of. When we were younger, me and him, we often tended to be so imaginative; building enchanted forts, hiding our snacks, tearing the forts down, hiding our snacks again. We begged our dad to build us a treehouse, onto the big oak in our backyard. He never did, saying that the tree was due to die, and that the treehouse would collapse with it as soon as it was built. The tree is yet to fall, though we decided to never risk it. That was a ways before our dreams shifted from magical getaways to packing our things and living on the run. They were both childish and impractical dreams, created by childish and impractical children. It warmed my heart to think of those times.

ME: sure, let’s do it

I prayed to the lords I didn’t believe in that he wasn’t joking.

BULLHEAD: u mean it?

ME: i’m waiting!

BULLHEAD: ...omw

I think, I should use this time to get ready? I didn’t know how long he would take, god I’m really doing this, so I didn’t plan anything extravagant. I kept my hair down, though it looked a mess with how I’d been lying on it, so I brushed through it. It was colder out, and my pullover was thin, so I slipped on a sweatshirt. It was weird, now, looking to my reflection in the mirror. I remembered him pointing out the freckles on my nose, though I tried to convince him that he was delusional. I wondered if they would be noticeable to him now, still, while it was this dark out. Of course not. Was I overdoing it? I couldn’t tell if it was all necessary or only flowery, I hoped it wasn’t the latter. 

He was expecting me from my bedroom window, which worked well, as my mother had all of her senses keened in on the front door- ready for the moment dad would growel his way inside. My bedroom lights were already off; my desk lamp was dim, I kept it on by the windowsill, he would see it there. The waiting didn’t last terribly long before a familiar screen gleamed, buzzing in my hand.

BULLHEAD: rapunzel, rapunzel!

It was a stupid analogy, if you could call it that. With or without context, even, it was stupid. Instead of replying, I steadied the window open, peering out and downwards. Lo and behold, familiar Gendry stood below, smiling cheesily, brows raised to the heavens. Getting out wasn’t hard, I’d done it all before. From the window, I could step onto the garage. From the garage, the fall to the ground was only slight. Gendry offered to ‘catch’ me, but I didn’t let him. There was a moment throughout all of that, one where I realized how mucky the whole scenario was. I was a girl, and he was a boy, sneaking out into the night, sights set on mischief. It was all something like Sansa would have dreamed of years ago, which was a sickening thought. Still, it wasn’t the same, since I was me, and he was Gendry. This didn’t feel like what I’m sure she imagined. 

“You look good.” I looked the same.

“Thanks. So do you.” He looked the same, too. It wasn’t a bad thing, though. He was already attractive, so no words were being bent. That’s how it works.

I began to walk first, though I didn’t lead, as he attached himself to my side. I wondered why it was that I could easily be so gushing over text, and then turn into stone the moment I saw his face. I blamed it on survival instinct, of course- that if I didn’t repress it all inside, I’d probably just die. 

He momentarily put an arm around my shoulder, before loosely ghosting it down my back, the pads of his fingers trailing over smoothly. I felt like a cat, arching my spine to fit his hand. It was the kind of feeling that made my breath catch in my throat, just until my heart quit lazing around and got back to pumping blood at a reasonable pace. The back of his hand slid further over my waist, below my arm, before finding my own hand. He laced them together. It was nasty, and it was sly, a form of black magic to make my gut that much weaker. I glanced up to him, he pretended not to notice, still smiling outwards like a fool. This was a moment I’d be replaying over in my head later, I’m sure.

We had already made it to the park, only needing to find our way through the trail. Our movement was steady, my hand still in his. I rarely felt so small, as I did, nearly pressed up at his side. It wasn’t completely a height thing, although that definitely played into it. We found our patch of the woods in seemingly no time.

“So,” he started, already resuming position, “What’s up?” It was played off jokingly, casually, so I allowed myself a laugh disguised as an exhale. I knew he meant to ask why I bothered to text him at this time of night. It wasn’t odd, but it wasn’t something I’d wait around to do, for the sake of nothing. I sat myself beside him, close enough to let my arm faintly graze him own.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He was quick, I wasn’t about to beat that temperament. I could tell him many things, probably anything, and no harm would be done. I studied his face, his eyes were sincere enough. It couldn’t hurt. No, it wouldn’t hurt a bit.

“Just a little tense in the house, is all.” It was downplayed, but there was no need for otherwise. I was more excited to have a moment with him than I was upset by being in my room, so it wasn’t necessary to fabricate a tale of torment and taking flight. 

“Tense enough to keep you awake, though.” He understood, though urged me to tell a bit more. I wanted to tell him more, but had no idea with what words I could phrase it,at least somehow gracefully. It didn’t seem a crime, so I rested my head on his shoulder, softly. He didn’t budge, respectfully, letting me lean into him. 

“My father leaves the house every night... my mother blames it on my brother... and I can’t do a thing, for starters.” My voice was stable and calm, putting it as plainly as possible. He took a second to think. There was no rush.

“That’s it then, yea? Nothing you can do.” It was only partly an assurance, and partly a statement, since he knew I didn’t need him for assurances. I appreciated that.

“Yeah, that’s it then.”

The quietness that followed was comfortable. I huddled his side, for warmth now mostly, while he seemed unaffected by the chill. I looked to the familiar twigs and stumps ahead of me, blanketed in the dark, seeming closer in proximity. It was odd, looking at them now. The details I made out on the bark must have been from memory, as sheets of blackness blocked my vision. 

“I never knew my father.” There was nothing solemn in his voice, somehow. I halted my rest to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t know.” He shook his head once, putting an arm around me, and bringing me back to his side.

“I’m telling you because I want you to know, because it’s important to me, or to who I am. Something like that.”

I nodded slightly, trying to formulate words that were calculated but true. Common sense told me to be baffled by his casual phrasing, but rather it made perfect sense, I at least thought I understood. Why mourn someone you’ve never known? The mourning was different, it was for something else- time, perhaps, though not exactly the person. But I knew it wasn’t a position to be envious of. I thought of my father, even, how I wished he were around more. It wasn’t his fault, I knew, not wanting to rival with mom. I inherited her stubbornness, I realized now, for what might have been the first time. I wondered what his mother was like, he seemed fairly fond of her, from what I’ve heard.

“I’m glad you told me.” The words left me without full warranty.

“Likewise.” I peeked up at him, to which he noticed, smiling down at me in return. I didn’t really want to fuck things up with him. I trusted him all too easily, and he trusted me all the same. I wanted to spend more time with him, and know what else there was to know about him. I reckon he thinks the same. It was pleasant, sitting only beside him, watching the dark and the stillness ahead. A subtle breeze feathered its way through. It was felt, though unable to shake the many scattered leaves that littered the ground.

“I think I can get used to you, Gendry.” He gave the faintest hum in response. There was a change in his energy, perhaps uncertain, though certainly eager. Moments were taken for him to turn towards me. I saw him, now. His expression was full, sweet, like the face of the moon, only dimmer, and more focused. 

He took my arm in one hand, my face in the other, and kissed me. I went completely soft, never knowing exactly when my own hands made their way into his hair. It was easy, and slow, allowing ourselves to breathe into it. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking,  _ this will suffice _ .

I could worry about getting home in the morning.


	4. Nothingman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon confides a wee bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's messy and it's short but hey after two months it's back

I was drowsy and dizzy, noticing a new visibility on the branches in front of me. I’d been here with Gendry all night, and now, all morning. There were moments when I’d drifted in and out of consciousness, though I managed to keep myself upright until daybreak, unwilling to disturb Gendry’s head resting in my lap. He passed out for about two hours, and awoke in a frenzy, nearly forgetting where we were. There were a few moments were I felt guilty for “keeping him up”, before remembering it was his idea to go fuck around in the woods until the morning. 

My phone was low on battery, I had missed calls from mom and Jon, no doubt for related reasons. I wondered how they might have reacted, uncovering that I wasn’t home, or haven’t been. The calls from Jon came after the calls from mom. I wondered how that played out: if she coerced Jon to call, knowing I might answer him, or if it was his own caring, knowing I might answer him. Either way, I did not answer. The air was chilled, and Gendry was warm. I huddled to him, keeping my phone in my sweatshirt pocket. 

I let our stillness remain for only a while longer, but I had to go home. He made me reluctant, lazily wrapping his arms around me whenever I budged. It was a good attempt, but not enough to swoon me into staying. I didn’t let him walk me home that day. 

 

Every moment of the morning until I came upon the doorstep was a blur. The lines of the door sharpened in my vision; I was inside now. I wondered if I could get away with going straight to my bedroom, sleep a little at least, until the sun was that much higher. I wasn’t in luck, however, as my mother rushed to me immediately. 

“Where’ve you been?”

“I don’t know.” I answered stupidly, knowing she’d get the hint that I wasn’t about to discuss it. She took a moment to gain composure, she’d gotten the hint. Her face looked tired, probably as much as mine. 

“Don’t suppose you know where your father is, either?” She meant to say that he hadn’t come home. This would be the first time, then, that he hadn’t come home straight in the morning. It was bound to happen, I think, but that doesn’t yet mean we need to worry. Things like this happened, it was normal, just the start of it for us. 

“No.” I spoke cooly, a little upset that she would be as coy as to ask me about him, as if I would know. She’s upset, but I’ve nothing to do with dad. Maybe I was upset that she showed more concern for him being gone than me. I wouldn’t have let her the latter, anyways, so it didn’t matter. “I’m going upstairs.”

She didn’t rest her gaze until I was upstairs, out of sight. Sansa’s door was open, so I decided to check in with her. 

“Hey-”

“You’ve been out.” She didn’t look up. She didn’t look upset, either. 

“Yeah.” I stood idle for a moment, though I didn’t need an invitation to come inside. I waited for her to say something first, maybe about my absence, maybe about dad’s. She didn’t seem like mentioning it; an attempt to balance the otherwise commotion around the house. It didn’t feel right to remain silent with her now, however. I thought of something she might care to talk about, whatever she’s brought up recently. Theon, racket-boy, I remembered she’d been in contact with him. Was that still true?

“Is Theon still moving back?”

“Yeah, pretty soon.”

“That’ll be cool, then.”

“Yeah.” 

She wasn’t feeling talkative about it, but I could tell it was something she looked forward to. She huffed silently, putting her phone to the side. She scrunched her lips into little shapes, squinting into the wall ahead of her. She was pretty, with all her reddish speckles. I should’ve known, when he commented on my own freckles, Gendry. He must know my sister, being in the same grade and all, how couldn’t he? My train of thought got off track, crawling into that familiar, doubtful little hole. I didn’t think I resembled my sister, but what if that’s been the charm all along? The little affection I’d been formulating, had it been in place of her, for him? He’d think she was out of his league, probably, undoubtedly. But me? That must’ve been too easy. I’ve been too easy. I suddenly felt that pang of humiliation, I’ve _ never _ been that easy. This kind of thing was never meant for me. 

“What about you, Arya?” 

“What about me?”

“Do you know anyone moving back soon?”

“Of course not. Theon’s the only real friend of ours who’s left.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Oh. Her gaze moved over her shoulder to strike my guilty expression. I understood. 

“If you’re talking about last night, I know what you think, but there isn’t anyone.”

“Are you sure? You were with someone.”

“I was alone.”

She was shut down, but believed me even so. I might as well have been alone, thinking of every worst possibility he might’ve brought me there. I didn’t have the sanctuary of being a solo package. If he knew me, he certainly knew Sansa. It wasn’t so much the other way around. Even if it felt nice, at least at the moment, it wasn’t for me. It couldn’t have been, thinking about it. I told him about my parents, too. He was nearly a stranger, and I let him in. It wasn’t much, but it was something. I felt weak, realizing my actions. 

But he kissed me. It felt like I understood all of Sansa’s teen fiction novels in that moment. It’s stupid on paper and it’s stupid to debate but I can’t be prideful enough to deny how it felt. It was almost therapeutic, his face on mine, feeling his skin, feeling him breathe. It was like feeling his humanity, and being reminded of my own. I think we fell asleep into it, waking with our foreheads touching. If I could forget about mom and dad and Sansa and Jon and just lay there with him longer, I know I would, regardless of the guilt I’d feel after. I can’t be wrong to let loose for one moment, to indulge myself in something worth indulging in. I could hear mom downstairs, the light jingle of her keys; she was about to leave. Once I hear her shut the door, I’ll go down, I think. Talk to Jon, find out how Jon’s doing.  _ You take care of Jon _ . It bugged me to the core, being in the dark about it. If it was that important, I could get him to tell me sooner or later. He always would, I know he will. I felt colder thinking of how he shrugged me off last night, something I wasn’t used to from him. Mom had left, the coast was clear. 

“I’m gonna go downstairs, okay?”

“Kay.”

I made my quiet way to the basement, where Jon’s room was. The lower half was more of a mancave in itself, Robb’s old room was down there, too. I thought of Bran and Rickon, who’s bedrooms were mid-level with mom and dad, but they loved hanging out in the basement with the older boys. I did too, loved hanging out in the basement with the boys. Robb, Jon, Bran, Rickon, and me. Together we would watch all the Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movies, or the Dark Knight Trilogy, over and over. Robb and Bran loved their ice hockey from time to time, which I found a little boring, but still liked being down there with them. Now it’s only Jon, down there, with only me stopping for a visit.

The wood on his door was dark, soft. I knocked twice, the sound was dull.

“Can I come in?” I heard his bed creak, his heavy feet approaching gently. The door opened. He looked a bit musky, though still not as bad as last night. He notioned to his bed- a futon on the floor, decked with comforters and throws. We sat beside each other. I could have waited a moment, but it wouldn’t have made a difference.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He resisted the tendency to stare blankly into his lap, and instead made a move to face me. I appreciated the gesture, he breathed deeply. 

“You wouldn’t like it if I did.”

“I would, I promise. I just want to know.” I challenged his gaze, proving my sincerity. He needed to know that whatever it was, I’d be okay with it, or I’d be there for him, at least. Everything seemed a bit slow, my mind’s adrenaline jumped to different places waiting for Jon to fess. I’d been with Gendry only this morning, it felt longer than that already. I wanted to kiss him again, I won’t deny it, but my subconscious continued to pull me to shame. It was too sudden, too strange, it couldn’t have been with good intention. It’s hard to hype myself to build a bigger wall when I’m staring at Jon. All I wanted to do was let my guard down around him, and encourage him the same. 

“I’m not your brother,” He kept his stature, spoke with intent, “never have been.”

“So you were adopted.” I treaded carefully, keeping my voice soft. 

His expression furrowed, but he still looked directly to me. He gave a wince of a nod. It was a lot to think about, I never would have guessed it. He was so much like our dad, even through the apologetic stare he was giving to me now. Why did he look apologetic?

“I know that mom isn’t...well, my mother. I’m not certain, but the same must go for dad.” I suppose dad didn’t stick around to let him know. I remembered the snarky implication I imposed on mom the other night, about where dad went when he left, who he saw. I regretted that now, wondering if there was a different truth to it, and that it wasn’t only a tease. It was a cold thing for me to say.

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” I tried to come up with reassurances in my head, but I didn’t want to cut him off just yet, let him be heard. 

“I didn’t either.” I felt terrible, though it was surely incomparable to how he was feeling. My curiosity of it all was shameful, I refused to let it take over my attention. 

“What should I say?” It was shameful to ask for his guidance, but I knew he knew it was in good mind. I truly did want to help him, however I could. He finally looked away, but he kept his head up.

“I don’t know, Arya. I’ve no idea who I am.”

“You’re my brother.” He gave a small, breathless sigh. I noticed how much his beard had been growing in.

“I’m not. I don’t deserve to live in this house. It should’ve been me who stormed out, not dad. I should’ve been the one to leave.” It was heartbreaking to hear him talk that way, as if he was a guest overstaying his welcome. It wasn’t true, he was family, no matter what. I wasn’t going to catch his eyes again, so I hugged his arm, stealing it from his side.

“None of it is your fault. You’re still our family, we need you here.” The words were simple, mockable; I was never good at bringing others up. Jon was always my pillar, I never had to be. I feel real guilty about that, now. 

“You know that isn’t true. I shouldn't have come back.”

“I need you here,” It was selfish and I knew it, but it wasn’t a lie, “That should count for something”. I’d always been closest with him, even when Sansa leaves for university, I counted on him to still be here. It isn’t like I could find a new Gendry every month to count on, when the latter inevitably leaves. I refused to believe it was a sort of dependency issue, though, it was just Jon. He’s my closest family, knows me better than anyone. It surprised me a little that I hadn’t already brought up my little walmart-crush, I wasn’t prone to keeping secrets from him. I suppose circumstance has made discussion more awkward than usual. The fling isn’t bound to last, anyways. 

It wasn’t enough to put his soul to ease, but he put his arms around me. To be encased in his brawny figure was something else, entirely. I remembered how lonely it was, during his first year of undergrad, even with Bran and Rickon and Sansa here. It isn’t the same.

“It counts.” We huddled into each other, like the hibernating bears we were meant to be. I waited a comfortable moment before asserting myself as the alpha.

“I’m sleeping down here tonight,” He gruffed a sliver of a laugh, I felt proud.

In a minute, I would separate from the man-bear to reach for the remote, claiming we needed to put something on the tv in order to function as human people better. We’ll watch something on cartoon network hazily, before he makes me promise not to tell Sansa anything- as if I would. The day will pass, and dad will not have been heard from yet. But none of it would matter, since I would spend the rest of the day being stupid with Jon. It wasn’t easy, his breaking news. In spite of all else, he knows I’ll always be his family. It’s what we both needed, from each other, and it wasn’t about to short circuit. 


End file.
